


Foundation X Has a Global Reach

by girlnamedlance



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), Elementary (TV), Kamen Rider W
Genre: Multi, abandoned work, casefic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlnamedlance/pseuds/girlnamedlance
Summary: I don't intend to continue this, but I really like what I have here, so I'm posting it. If someone else wants to take the ideas in here and run with it, be my guest! Lots of assumed shared backstory, with Holmes having known Sokichi at some point.
Relationships: Hidari Shoutarou/Philip, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago, Narumi Akiko/Terui Ryu
Kudos: 7





	Foundation X Has a Global Reach

Sherlock was blasting jazz again. And from the rhythmic “thwap thwap thwap” Joan could only barely pick out, he was practicing his Single Stick again. And to think it wasn’t that long ago that she wouldn’t have been able to notice that.

Or the doorbell, for that matter. She let it go for a moment, since Sherlock was in the main room, he would surely get it right? No, of course he wasn’t. He was too “busy”. 

With a sigh, Joan came down the stairs, wrapping her sweater a bit more tightly around herself. Why were the windows open? 

Joan stepped into the atrium, and cracked the door open. Outside stood a pair of Japanese guys. One in a fedora and grey overcoat, the other with fluttery dark hair and black binder clips in his hair, wearing a backpack over a tan jacket. “Yo,” said the one in the fedora, with a casual wave of a hand. “The name’s Hidari Shotaro,” he introduced. “We’re detectives. We’re looking for the famous Sherlock Holmes.” His accent was pronounced, but there was something else in how he spoke that seemed odd. Joan filed that away for later.

Joan sighed. Whenever random detectives dropped in unannounced, it was never good news. “Hey Sherlock!” Joan called into the parlor. “Do you know a Hidari Shotaro?”

“Haven’t the foggiest,” Sherlock replied. Mercifully, he stepped to the stereo to turn the music down to a more manageable level. 

“Tell him I’m calling in a favor from Narumi Sokichi,” Shotaro called into the room once the music was quieter.

Sherlock immediately turned the music off. “Show them in.”

Joan stood aside and let them in. The guy with Shotaro looked around the new environment with no small amount of interest. They shared a brief, hushed conversation in Japanese while they stripped off their coats. Afterward, the one without a hat positively pouted. Joan decided all would become clear in time, and stepped to start closing windows.

“Mr. Holmes, we’ve never met before, but your reputation precedes you even to my little haven of Fuuto,” Shotaro began. Joan got the distinct impression that he had rehearsed his English quite thoroughly.

“What brings a protege of Narumi’s all the way to New York City?” Sherlock asked.

“Wherever the wind blows my case, that’s where a detective goes,” Shotaro replied, less than helpfully.

“I thought Chicago was the Windy City,” Joan pointed out. 

Shotaro looked briefly caught off guard but recovered while he attached his fedora to a clip on his belt. He reached into his vest pocket and produced a photo. It was of a man with medium brown skin, bright red hair, and a white suit with a mandarin style collar. He had a gun raised just off to the right of the photographer. Someone just behind him had a weird black mask with white streaks all over it. Joan considered it a luchador’s mask at first blush but it wasn’t quite right.

“We’re looking for him. Ryder Quinn, a member of Foundation X. It’s an international syndicate we and some associates in Japan have been dismantling for a few years now,” said the young man that had been quietly inspecting a shelf up until now.

“You never introduced your associate,” Joan said while Sherlock inspected the photo.

“Right. This is Philip, my partner,” Shotaro jabbed a thumb in Philip’s direction. Philip’s English was much better than Shotaro’s.

“Foundation X? How insidious,” Sherlock commented. “Tell me, Mr. Hidari, have you taken up the same speciality that Mr. Narumi had?”

Shotaro nodded. “Yeah. We’ve destroyed the source, but there’s still a lot out there to clean up. And the more time that goes by, the further from home they get.”

“Right. You’ll have my assistance,” Sherlock said in his usual curt kind of way.

“Glad to--”

“Under one condition,” Sherlock continued, steamrolling right over what Shotaro was about to say. Shotaro was too busy stammering over himself in both Japanese and English to react properly. Fortunately, Sherlock was never one to wait for pleasantries. “When this case is done, you will have eliminated every trace of those things in this city.”

Shotaro thought a moment. Joan hoped it was so he could work out the language instead of waffling on the ultimatum. Philip came to his rescue. “Absolutely,” he replied. “This is your territory, after all.”

Shotaro nodded. “I wouldn’t be intruding on it if it wasn’t important.”

“Right. Let’s get started.”

“Do you have a dry-erase board or a chalkboard?” Philip asked as he slung the backpack off of himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
After a half hour, all the facts of the case were plastered to walls and drawn up on a freestanding chalkboard. Philip frowned at the chalk dust on his fingers and the portions of his sleeves that covered his palms. Shotaro stuck up the last photo and took a sip of his coffee before he started talking. “Foundation X is an investor in weapons development. They have backed many projects, based in harnessing humanity’s ‘true potential’. This is the particular one that brings us here today.” Shotaro pointed to a photo of a device that looked like an overlarge USB drive with funny ridges down the sides. It had a stylized A on it, and Arms written elsewhere on the label. “They were created by a syndicate known as Museum, run by Sonozaki Ryuubei. That old syndicate was dismantled by ourselves in 2011. The power vaccuum was filled by Foundation X.”

“Since they were investors, they had all the data on their creation, so they picked up production,” Joan interjected. Sherlock had thus far remained silent as he took in the information.

“Yes, exactly,” Shotaro replied. 

“But what is it that these things do?” Joan pressed. “It just looks like a flash drive.”

“They turn average people into superhumans,” Philip said. Shotaro started hunting for a file on the laptop they had brought. “Capable of destroying whole buildings, advancing the age of people, killing them with an untreatable virus, almost anything.”

“Or, in this case, turning into a lunkhead covered in guns,” Shotaro finished, pointing the laptop toward Sherlock and Joan. On the screen was security camera footage from inside a parking garage. On screen was a man with a green military style coat standing near a motorcycle. Shotaro was standing near two women, one in a hoodie with a ponytail, the other in a leather jacket and short shorts. The footage rolled as the man and the woman in leather argued, and he pushed her down. The other woman came to her side, while Shotaro took over exchanging barbs. They could only imagine what was being said, there was no audio on the tape, and Joan’s lip-reading ability didn’t extend to languages she didn’t even speak. 

But they could see the man raise a device like how Shotaro had shown them to his face, and press it against a mark tattood just below the outside corner of his right eye. Before their very eyes, the man flashed in light and changed into what Shotaro had aptly described as a ‘lunkhead covered in guns’ but Joan still didn’t feel prepared. Shotaro stopped the footage when the transformation was complete. He had something in his hand on the frame, but Joan was focused on the more insane part of this.

“It turns people… into monsters?” Joan asked, incredulous. At least the flaming demon dog turned out to have a reasonable explanation no matter how it had sounded on the face of it.

“One could say it brings out the monster inside of people,” Sherlock finally said.

“Wait, you knew these things were out there?” Joan asked.

Sherlock nodded. “I have consulted with Mr. Narumi on a few occasions. Once or twice with his old partner, what was his name?” Sherlock turned to Shotaro.

“Matsui Seiichiro,” Shotaro supplied. He had a scowl on his face.

“Right, that was it,” Sherlock left Shotaro’s obvious discomfort with the subject lie. 

“So, what are they doing here?” Joan asked, moving on.

“New York City is a prime location for rapid experimentation. Anywhere in Japan would be too close to the patrol of ourselves and our associates,” Philip continued. “Usage of a Gaia Memory without a driver is very dangerous,” Philip pointed to a photo of one. It was large and metal, and had what looked like a USB slot in the front. It was attached to a man’s waist, but the photo was focused only on the driver. All that could be told of what the man was wearing was a black suit. “It takes over one’s mind, and corrupts them from the inside out. In exchange for the power it gives, it destroys their mind and soul.”

“Sounds like a junkie to me,” Sherlock said with his trademark dry wit.

Joan glared at him briefly. “That would be accurate, yes,” Philip replied. “A person struggling with withdrawal from Gaia Memories would be as noticed as someone deprived of other drugs.”

“That is, not at all,” Sherlock replied.

Philip nodded. 

“Why is it you need our help?” Sherlock asked. “Surely the police or FBI might be a better choice? Since they have things like tanks and body armor?”

Shotaro shook his head. “Foundation X doesn’t play nice. We’re pretty sure they have a mole in the NYPD.”

Again, with the moles and beating around the bush. Joan had had enough of that to last a lifetime. “Captain Gregson and his squad have been fully vetted, and they’re clean,” Philip continued. “Beyond a shadow of a doubt. They were the ones that sent us to you.”

“I could have told you that,” Sherlock muttered to himself. “Very well.” Sherlock turned to the blanket of information strewn all over the wall and pulled one paper in particular off and laying it on the already-cluttered table. “We’ll start here. This is a list of recent transactions Mr. Quinn has made, including a dozen hotel rooms all over the city. We’ll determine which ones he’s in and when, and we’ll move from there.”

“I’ll take the ones in Queens,” Joan volunteered. She pulled out a notebook and started jotting down hotel names.

Philip glanced over the list and stepped away for the others to take on different segments. “Shotaro, you take these three,” Joan circled the first three on the list. “They’re all in Midtown. And I’m pretty sure they’re all international enough to have Japanese speaking staff if you need it.” 

“Oi!” Shotaro protested. “My English is fine.”

Philip snickered. “I told you you shouldn’t have watched those movies on the plane.”

Shotaro fired back with a sneer but his reply was in Japanese. Philip merely rolled his eyes. Clearly this was standard for them.

Suddenly it clicked. “Did you learn English from detective noir movies?” Joan asked.

Shotaro froze. For a detective, he sure telegraphed his emotions with a bullhorn.

Philip laughed. “She figured it out faster than I thought she would,” he said. “By approximately 20 minutes and 37 seconds. I believe that means Akiko is treating me to ramen when we get home.” He pulled out his phone and started a text message.

“That’s why you have the weird accent, you’re trying to sound like Dick Tracy. And the hat, too.” 

“No, the hat is a Narumi signature,” Sherlock corrected.

Shotaro let out a frustrated groan. “Okay, fine, fine,” he said. His native accent was a bit more pronounced but when he wasn’t trying to sound like someone else, he was somehow more understandable. “Yeah, I learned English from reading detective novels and watching movies. So what?” He fired off what Joan presumed was an insult in Japanese back at his partner. His partner didn’t react, and just continued his text message conversation.

“Have your lovers’ quarrel later, Hidari,” Sherlock shouted him down. Shotaro turned bright red and his jaw worked but he had nothing to say. “We have your man to catch before he levels half the city, remember?”

Once the four detectives got to work, things settled down. They started to gell, Joan noticed. Shotaro and Sherlock had had more than one civil conversation, she noticed between phone calls. Their search had expanded to some dive hotels and hostels in the area. As well as homeless shelters and halfway houses, the places an organization like this might prey upon for ‘research subjects’. The only one that seemed to be off was Philip. After he’d finished his text message conversation, he’d been leaning against the wall, holding a book open in front of himself. The book was bound in forest green leather, with gold vine detail. It could be one of Sherlock’s, except it was far too pristine. And curiouser, his eyes were closed. Joan poured some coffee and brought it over to him. Philip looked not a day over 18, to her eyes. It was weird that he was involved in this kind of intense work. And if she rolled his age back to 2011, then it was even worse. “Philip? You awake? You guys must be dealing with some pretty serious jetlag.”

As she spoke, she approached him with the coffee. But when she got close enough, she noticed the book he was ‘reading’ had no text on the page. They were just blank white pages. 

“I’m performing a lookup,” he replied. He turned the page in his book to yet another blank one. “I would prefer to be undisturbed.”

So he’s a mini-Sherlock, Joan wondered to herself. Something about brain attics, no doubt. “Fine, there’s coffee here if you need it.” 

“Thank you.”

Well, his manners were marginally better. Joan went over to Sherlock. He’d been having an animated conversation in Portuguese for the last hour. There had been shouting earlier, but now things sounded a bit more cordial and businesslike. Sherlock closed the laptop in front of him and hung up the phone. “We have a lead. A dock worker at Red Hook spotted some well-dressed shady characters unloading a container in the middle of the night last Thursday. White suits tend to stand out. He says he thought he saw some masked enforcers too.”

Shotaro crossed the room from the phone call he had been on. “Yeah, they’ve never been worried about subtlety. Because the people that can stand up to them are very very few. And somehow they’re always surprised when we show up.”

“Arrogant to the point of stupidity,” Joan said.

Shotaro shook his head. “No, these people tend to know exactly what they’re doing right up until they push their luck. That’s when it’s time to worry.”

“So where are they now. In a week, that container could have gone anywhere in the city. Or even out of the city,” Joan continued.

Sherlock shook his head. “No, they had it shipped directly here for a reason. If they wanted it in another city there’s any number of ports they could have used. Red Hook limits our radius to…” Sherlock opened his computer back up again and did some pointing and clicking on a map of New York. The result he showed them was a circle that contained almost all of Brooklyn, and most of the Lower East Side. “We can exclude New Jersey because there’s plenty of ports they could have used on that side.”

“That’s still a lot of ground to cover,” Joan remarked. “Anything else we can narrow on?”

“Unfortunately not. All we have is a container number. Which wasn’t scanned out properly by the Port Authority, so most places that use their system won’t be able to read it.”

“Actually, we can,” Philip said. He leaned in with a marker in hand. He drew a smaller circle on the screen with it. “Foundation X’s New York headquarters is somewhere inside of here. It was a small circle, indeed, no larger than a quarter on the scale of the map. 

Sherlock clicked to zoom into that area. “That’s nearly all of Brooklyn’s 99th precinct.”

“And how are you so sure?” Joan asked.

“I told you, I looked it up.”

“Where? I swear to God, if there’s any more Everyone nonsense, I quit.”

Philip looked confused, but interested in the reference to the hacker collective. But he didn’t inquire, instead started rapidly flipping through that blank book again.

“Don’t worry about it, Watson, I trust his judgement,” Sherlock replied.

“How? There is literally no basis!”

Shotaro stepped into the conversation with a hand raised. “I’ll explain, but this stays between the four of us. The NYPD can’t know.”

Joan huffed, but nodded. Discretion is something she understood well. Shotaro glanced over to Philip before he began. “Philip has the knowledge of everything in the world in his head. We call it the Gaia Library. Imagine an endless expanse of bookshelves in every direction. You can cross-reference it like a card catalog. You have to have the right pieces for it to give a specific answer. Since we don’t have all the pieces yet, Brooklyn’s 99th precinct is as close as we can get. I know it sounds weird, but is that the weirdest thing you’ve heard today?”

Joan considered a moment. Honestly, it wasn’t. A walking Google wasn’t any more weird than flash drives turning people into monsters. And at the moment, it seemed less dangerous. At least the knowledge was in the right hands.

“Wait, what’s stopping you? If you know everything, then what’s stopping you from just looking up his location and stopping him yourselves?” Joan asked.

“As you might have guessed, Philip is not my real name, but it’s the only one that matters.” 

“Sonozaki Ryuubei is your father,” Sherlock interjected. He was looking the boy up and down like a science experiment. “The resemblence isn’t close, but it’s nearer through your sisters.”

Philip nodded. “Once, I assisted in the creation of these Gaia Memories. Now, I’m helping to stop the damage I’ve done.”

“Counting your sins, one Memory at a time,” Sherlock said.

Philip nodded resolutely. Shotaro rested his hand on Philip’s shoulder. “Anything Foundation X was doing prior to 2011 is locked away from me. Presumably for their own protection. Including any current activities of those that were members at the time. Those that have joined since then can be useful, but the masks make being sure of their identities impossible.”

During the silence that followed, Joan had a lot to consider. But, she had once been in the business of helping people turn their life around, and far be it from she to get in the way of a weirder version. “I’ll call Captain Gregson, he’ll touch base with the captain there,” Joan said, pulling out her phone.

“No need,” Shotaro said, reaching inside his vest. He pulled out leather badge holder. He held it up. “We’re special deputies with Interpol. They can’t tell us no.” He grinned like a cat that caught the mouse. 

But then Philip’s phone rang. “Ah, Aki-chan, your timing is per--” Philip’s face turned to confusion. “And who am I speaking to?” Shotaro crossed over to his partner so he could listen in on the phone conversation. But then Philip smiled. “Your timing is excellent, Captain Holt, we were just going to come to your station to consult with you about a case. We’ll see you soon.” Philip hung up on the protestations of the man on the line.

“Aki-chan and Terui Ryuu have been arrested,” he informed Shotaro. Shotaro drug a hand down his face and made a growl of frustration. 

~~~~~~~~~

“He’s intense,” Jake commented, standing with his arms crossed.

“Not even I could get away with that much leather,” Rosa said from beside him.

“I can’t even talk to the woman he came in with, every time I approach the women’s lockup I can feel like he’s trying to murder me with his eyes. Not to mention that we had to take away her shoes and the shoes of everyone else in the women’s drunk tank because she’s really good at weaponizing them,” Amy added, while delicately holding an ice pack to her cheek. 

“I bet he’s murdered at least like 5 people. Five bad dudes, bad to the bone, like they’re all Jason Statham in the Transporter.” Jake added.

“You think she’s in charge, like he’s a bodyguard and she’s some important mob boss’s daughter or something?” Rosa said.

“Look, even the gangbangers know how to fear him. He’s got basically the whole cell to himself,” Jake continued. The three NYPD detectives watched the tall man in all red motorcycle leather pace slowly like a cornered panther. He glared at them. The three flinched together in unison.

“Where is that interpreter?” Terry asked the three detectives. “We can’t hold them forever just because they don’t speak English.” 

“The 32nd scored a big Yakuza bust last night, and they’re still processing statements and evidence. They have every guy they can on that, they can’t spare anyone,” Rosa answered.

“Isn’t assaulting an officer and trespassing on a crime scene a little more important than some drugs and guns--okay I get it,” Amy said, promptly escorting herself out of the conversation.

“We know the woman is Akiko Narumi, since she had her passport in her bag, along with like 8 green slippers. He didn’t have any ID on him at all, and just walked into a crime scene like it wasn’t a big deal,” Terry said. “Why the hell didn’t he have anything on him?”

“How much cash? Maybe it’s connected to the 32nd’s bust.”

“Not a lot. Couple hundred bucks in dollars, a few thousand yen. I’ve got her name running through some databases, but nothing yet,” Rosa answered. She looked back at the man in leather. “I kinda admire him, you know.”

“Oh god no,” Jake looked at her in horror. “You think he’s hot.”

“He’s got enough balls to wear all red leather and take a tackle from Terry like that and not even come up bruised. He’s a machine. A sexy machine.”

It was then that Captain Holt came out from his office. “The gentleman I spoke to on Ms. Narumi’s phone is on his way up. He has identified himself as an Interpol agent.” Simultaneously, the entire bullpen groaned. Holt gestured to quiet them down. “I expect you to treat them with the same professionalism as you would your fellow colleagues…. Or better,” he directed that comment at Jake, who pulled a super professional and mature face at him.

Almost on cue, the elevator dinged. Out strode two men, one in a fedora and vest, and the other with ridiculously fluffy hair. “Detectives, I would like to introduce Interpol special deputies Shotaro Hidari and Philip… excuse me, they didn’t catch your last name.”

“I don’t need one,” Philip replied. 

“That hat, no last name, these guys are legit,” Jake whispered.

“A fedora? Gross,” Rosa replied. She didn’t even try to be quiet about it either. 

A bang on the glass from the men’s lockup made them all jump. The man in red had caught sight of their new visitors and if the 99 had thought he was angry before, then he was furious now, and it was all directed at the Interpol agents. Shotaro visibly quailed, but Philip didn’t look bothered in the least. He even waved.

“Right,” Shotaro pressed on. “I’m going to need you to cut these two loose,” Shotaro gestured to the man in red and the woman with the slippers, who was yelling something at them through the glass but could only barely be heard, much less understood.

“They look super happy to see you,” Jake replied. “Can you tell us who they are?”

“Friends of ours. He is Terui Ryuu, an active duty Supervisor of the Japanese Metropolitan Police, and she is Narumi Akiko, his wife and our agency chief,” Shotaro answered. 

“If he’s an officer, then where’s his badge?” Rosa challenged.

“Didn’t you search him when you arrested him?” Philip asked.

“Yeah, but…” Jake looked a little uncertain.

“But what?” Shotaro pushed. Philip held up the Interpol badge as if to punctuate their need for information. He was clearly enjoying having a badge to flash at people.

“But the arrest wasn’t exactly smooth. He put up a fight. Terry had to use his muscles,” Terry answered. “He was reaching for something in his jacket, so I tackled him. Maybe it came loose in the struggle.”

Holt clearly looked aggravated by all of this. If you knew him well, anyway. “Sergeant Jeffords, check all catalogued evidence for the man’s badge, and failing that, send some uniforms out to the scene to locate it there. Peralta, attempt to verify this via the FBI database, if he identified himself properly at JFK, then they should have a record of it. Once we verify his identity, we can release them to your custody, Agent Hidari.”

“Detective Hidari,” Shotaro corrected. “Can I talk to them while you guys…” he made a typing keyboard gesture.

“Certainly,” Holt acquiesced. “Boyle, escort our John Doe and Ms. Narumi to an interrogation room”

“Can I have a running start? Some people talk about getting the piss scared out of them but I think I have actually experienced a little leakage here,” Boyle admitted.

“Boyle!” Jake protested, while the rest of the bullpen pulled disgusted faces.

“Okay, fine, fine. But don’t say you were not warned about the actual pee-in-pantsness of this man!” Boyle got the keys and unlocked the door to the holding cell. The drunks and other random arrestees awaiting processing gave him a wide berth while the man in red strode out of the cell. 

“Yo, Terui, sorry about the delay,” Shotaro told him. “We just found out. What the hell did you do, man?” The NYPD detectives seemed shocked that Shotaro and the stalking panther were having a civil conversation.

“The crime scene looked like a Gaia Memory test,” he answered. “I was about to identify myself when I was tackled by the big one.” 

“Sergeant Terry Jeffords,” Philip supplied. “He is currently attempting to locate your credentials. We will be on our way soon.”

No sooner was Akiko’s door opened than did she come barreling out of the cell. She jumped on her husband and gave him a big hug. He smiled and kissed the top of her head.

“Whoa,” Rosa looked up from where she was trying to help Jake with the database. “He can smile. Gross.”

“They’re married?” Jake boggled at the display. “She dresses like a kid in a Disney channel movie.”

Once the reunion was over, Akiko started in on Shotaro and Philip. She snatched the easiest bludgeoning weapon she could get a hold of, Shotaro’s hat. She started whacking the two detectives over the head and shoulders with it. “What. The. Hell. Took. You. So. Long?!” Each word was punctuated by another hit. Terui didn’t even try to stop her.

“Hey, hey, hey! Nice gratitude!” Shotaro complained.

**Author's Note:**

> A few things that I had intended for later:  
> \- Terui didn't have his ID because I thought the best way for the 99 to not see his driver until later was for him to not have anything on him at all  
> \- Ryuusei pulled some strings to get them access as Interpol agents. So Philip didn't do anything nefarious to get them badges, despite how much he likes them.  
> \- As in basically all of my W fic, I'm using Shotaro/Philip as the default state. They love each other, they do the things, it's sappy and gross.   
> \- Also post-Megamax? Post the last thing they appeared in together. *cries in Suda-Plz-Come-Back-To-Toei*
> 
> The main reason I'm not continuing is because right now I can't look at the B99 cast and other police-glorifying media and not see how much easier they make it to continue the status quo of policing in America. I know it's a comedy show and they lampshade that stuff and have honestly had a few good and progressive headlines (when Jake defended Holt and punched that old school racist cop he had idolized comes to mind) but in the end, it still is presenting cops as the good guys, and defends a lot of the fucked up shit they do in the name of funny. And that's not even taking the Terry Crews nonsense into account. This is not a condemnation of people that do choose to do so. I'm not here to ruin things that make people happy, especially not right now. But I can't see myself moving forward with this with things as they are. 
> 
> If this hatches a bunny for you, go wild, link me even. I'd love to read it. I just can't see myself creating it.
> 
> Thanks for reading this and all my other stuff!


End file.
